


In Hindsight

by juice817, semaphoredrivethru



Series: Past Curfew [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:08:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juice817/pseuds/juice817, https://archiveofourown.org/users/semaphoredrivethru/pseuds/semaphoredrivethru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver writes back to Bill, saying what Bill's been expecting for months.  But Bill never thought it would feel like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Hindsight

**Author's Note:**

> _Originally posted December 1, 2006._

~~~*~~~  


The hot Egyptian sun beat down on the sand, bouncing back up in shimmering waves. It was past what Bill had once thought of as "hot," and had gone into the realm where you kept drinking water just so you wouldn't stop sweating. The glare was an assault on the eyes, even with the dark shades Bill wore, and every time he looked out across the dunes, mind turning over whatever problem there was in front of him at the moment, Bill found himself squinting hard enough to give himself a wicked headache.

In other words, it was just another day at the office.

Inside the field tent, Bill was digging through the few books that were so important that he never went on site without them. There was something odd about the glyphs on the tomb they were working on, and he was certain he'd seen them before. Something about certain doom and eternal suffering, but then again they all said that. It was in the details that the important parts were found.

Just then, an owl swooped into the tent and landed in front of Bill, angrily offered its leg up to be relieved of the scroll it carried. It had been nearly two weeks since he'd last written to Oliver, and Bill would have been lying to himself if he hadn't privately admitted that the prolonged silence worried him. Quickly, he took the scroll, ignoring the over-heated bird as it flew off to the darkest and coolest corner of the tent. With a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, Bill began to read, although there wasn't all that much to the letter.

  
 _16 May, 1993_

 _  
Bill,_

 _  
Actually, I don't think we can have a real conversation. Thank you for all of the truly amazing sex. I'm sorry it was a bad choice for you. I know I was pushy and wouldn't leave you alone so it's all really my fault. You don't have to worry. I won't bother you any more. You'll be relieved to know I've shagged someone my own age. You don't have to worry about me any more. I'm sorry. You have no idea how sorry._

 _  
Oliver_

  
Bill closed his eyes and took a deep breath as the world went strangely distant and muffled. So that was that. Done. He was free now, free to go back to his life from before, back to the clubs and the pretty boys that were legally and morally old enough. Free to do whatever and whoever he wanted, even though he'd never really been tied down at all to begin with. Darting a glance over at Nigel, who was engrossed in his own work, Bill folded up the letter and tucked it into one of the large cargo pockets in his shorts and gathered himself back up again. Free.

But it still hurt like hell.

~*~*~*~*~

It being a Tuesday, no one would have thought that today would be Bill Weasley's triumphant return to the clubbing circuit. But he still worked through the rest of the day with a single-minded sort of purpose, came home, showered, and dressed to kill in snug black jeans and a sapphire blue silk shirt that he didn't even bother to button up. His boots gleamed when he was done with them, and every last detail was perfect, like he'd never missed a beat. Pleased with himself, Bill brushed imaginary dust off his shoulder and glanced at the clock, only to discover that it was far to early to even pick Nigel up, much less go anywhere yet.

So, to limber himself up (because it had been far too long since he'd gone out without a vague sense of doing wrong), Bill pulled a fresh bottle of his best and strongest firewhiskey down from the shelf. The first drink was too quick, and he didn't get a chance to properly enjoy it, so Bill poured another, sipping carefully before tossing that one back, too. Warmth slowly spread through his limbs, but it was _too_ slow, so Bill poured a third drink and wondered if maybe Nigel wouldn't like a couple of drinks before they went out, too. At the very least, it would be better than drinking all alone like this.

~*~*~*~*~

Nigel was a little concerned about Bill, truth to tell. He'd been acting oddly most of the afternoon and had vanished immediately after work, literally as soon as he could. Nigel had had paperwork to finish before he could leave, but once he'd filed that last report, he Apparated to Bill's flat, concerned enough not to want to wait as long as it took to walk. Smoothing his expression to nonchalance, Nigel knocked lightly at Bill's door before opening it and strolling in. "Bill?"

Bill looked up at the sound of Nigel's voice, enjoying how everything, even his emotions, were slowly becoming swaddled in cotton-wool now that he was slowly sipping his way through the last of his third drink. Smiling, he waved Nigel over and Summoned a second glass. "Nige!" Bill said, not leaving his comfortable sprawl on the couch. "Come, have a drink with me. It's a celebration."

Nigel raised an eyebrow and made his way slowly over to sit next to Bill. "What are we celebrating?" he asked. Bill had obviously gotten a head start, but then again he could hold his liquor better than Nigel could (not that Nigel would ever admit it). Nigel took the glass Bill offered, raising it in a vague toasting gesture before taking a good swallow with a small sound of pleasure.

"My freedom," Bill said, eyes only half-focused as he looked into his drink for a few beats. "I'm a free man again. No more dramatic letters or sneaking about, no more worrying about school holidays or trying to convince kids to live their own lives so they can grow up all good and strong. I," he added, pausing for effect, "am _free_."

Nigel choked on the second swallow, gasping a bit as he finally got it down the right tube. "Really?" he wheezed. "Well. Good for you?" After another swallow - just to smooth down the last, of course - Nigel asked quietly, "What happened?" This explained the odd behaviour, Nigel mused. He knew Bill was in love with the kid, even if Bill didn't.

Deciding that a refill for the both of them was in order, Bill didn't answer right away as he poured. "I made the fatal error of trying to avoid upsetting him. With my leaving, that is. Words were exchanged, and he went off on his merry way." He nodded to the letters he'd left on the coffee table. The words were already burnt into his mind, but Bill knew he'd keep this last exchange of letters with all the others, even though these were the only ones he'd ever shown anyone, even Nigel. "If I'd known that was the key to ridding myself of my little underage boyfriend, I'd have done it ages ago."

"Right." Nigel gave Bill a dry look and sat forward on the couch. He reached out and picked up all three of Oliver's letters, quickly reading them. "Bill," Nigel said, voice still quiet, "did you think he wouldn't be upset when you just disappeared?" He wondered what exactly Bill had written back, what Oliver meant by a real conversation, but mentally shelved the questions for later.

"I knew he'd be," Bill said, rolling his eyes. He sighed and took a good-sized swallow. "But I reckon I thought it'd be easier if I didn't have to see it that time." Shrugging, Bill leaned companionably against Nigel's shoulder. "It's not a fun thing to see, you know."

"Ah." Nigel shifted just a bit, making them both more comfortable, and drank from his own glass. "So it was entirely selfish, then. I'd think it would be flattering, knowing he lo- wants you that much."

Bill grumbled wordlessly and took another drink. If he was going to go dancing tonight, he probably ought to slow down, but Bill didn't feel much like lights and noise just now. "Last time, he looked like the world was ending," he said quietly, eyes distant. "And I put that look there. Made him feel that way because I had come to see him in the first place."

Nigel put his arm around Bill. "No," he said, turning to press his forehead against Bill's temple. "Because you were leaving. Bill, he _loves_ you. And he's a kid. I'm sure he felt like the world _was_ ending."

"No," Bill said stubbornly, but still relaxed against Nigel's solid frame. "He _thinks_ he loves me, because he doesn't know better. Because he's a kid," he added forlornly, finishing off his drink. He Summoned the bottle over and managed to refill his glass without losing Nigel's comforting warmth, and then lifted the whiskey in offer. "More?"

"Sure." Nigel held out his glass. "What do you mean, he doesn't know better?" Nigel blinked. Was this drink three, or four? He snorted softly. Did it really matter? He had a nice buzz going, certainly, and relaxed into the couch, and Bill, to enjoy it.

"He doesn't know that all the hearts and flowers is rubbish." Bill poured, and then leant his head on Nigel's shoulder. "That the bloody stupid ideal of 'true' love is for the self-deluded and for... and for kids. But he'll learn eventually... I was just hoping he'd learn easier than I did, is all."

Both eyebrows went up at that. "So. Which're your parents, then? Kids, or self-leduded. Deluded." Nigel closed one eye and looked at his glass, which was suddenly almost empty again. Hadn't Bill just filled it?

"That's _different_ ," Bill said, politely splashing more whiskey into Nigel's glass for him. "Not so much hearts and flowers as friends and partners. And, judging by how many siblings I've got, a lot of lust, too." His face screwed up in disgust. "That's just gross. Pretend I didn't say that last bit?

Nigel snorted out a laugh, but he left that part alone. "You think your mum didn't want hearts and flowers, that they weren't goofy in love before they were partners?" Nigel took a healthy swallow of his refilled glass and sighed. "Good stuff, that. Anyway. Bill. That kid hurt you years ago; are you gonna let him ruin _every_ thing for _ever_?" After yet another drink, Nigel closed his eyes and rested his head against Bill's. "Room's spinning," he mumbled.

Bill shook his head slightly, but stopped right away when he saw that the room was, indeed, spinning. "Not forever. Just won't forget m'lesson, is all. Dated Ollie, didn't I?" he mumbled, turning to look at Nigel, their foreheads pressed together. "Maybe the room'll stop moving if we look at something that's not moving."

"Y'think?" Nigel slowly opened his eyes, meeting Bill's that were so very close. He snickered. "Your eyes match your shirt, d'you know?" His own eyes crossed and he blinked hard, trying to focus.

"Yeah," Bill said, grinning crookedly. "S'one of the few colours that look right on me. Playing to m'strengths so I can get a new younger boyfriend." He chuckled. "At least for the night. 'Cept I don't think we're gonna make it out now. Too pissed for seduction."

"Oh, I don't know," Nigel said, trying to be helpful. "You're very good at it." He clumsily patted Bill's head with his free hand. "Thought you thought Ollie was too young. Why d'you want a younger one?" Nigel turned his head enough to finish off his drink, then set the glass to the side, not noticing that he completely missed the coffee table or that the glass landed on its side on the carpet and rolled away. He lifted both hands to Bill's face, pressing them to lean freckled cheeks. "Jus' go get Ollie back. You love 'im. He loves you." Nigel nodded as if it were settled, his hands still squeezing Bill's face.

It felt so _nice_ to be this close to someone, to be comforted even if Nigel had it wrong. Bill reached up and touched his friend's hair. "Not everyone younger'n me is Ollie's age," he murmured, and then before Bill even knew he was doing it, he was leaning in and kissing Nigel. It was strange, the wrong set of lips under his and not as inflaming as kissing Oliver was, but it felt comfortable and safe, and Bill pushed closer, angling his head to keep from bumping their noses as he kissed Nigel slowly and thoroughly. "You're younger'n me," Bill added, breathing against Nigel's mouth.

Nigel murmured in agreement, not sure what he was agreeing with and honestly too drunk to care. It had been awhile since he'd kissed someone he cared at all about, and while he wasn't in love with Bill, he did care. It made a difference, and Nigel kissed Bill again, his grip on Bill's head relaxing, fingers threading through his hair. "What're we doing?"

"It's called snogging," Bill said, smirking as he nibbled on Nigel's lower lip, not as smooth and seductive as he normally was, but fortunately not too pissed to bollocks it up entirely. He cupped the back of Nigel's neck and licked at the seam between his lips. "It's all the rage with the kids these days."

"Prat," Nigel said, snorting out another laugh. He put his hands on Bill's shoulders, pushing him flat and following him down. "I know what snogging is." And to prove it, he pressed his mouth to Bill's, licking at Bill's lips, kissing him slowly and as thoroughly as he knew how. It felt good. Nigel wasn't sure how much of it was the alcohol and how much was the taste of Bill's mouth, so he kissed his friend again, trying to figure it out. "It's just I don't kiss you," he said, and kissed him yet again.

Bill rolled, pinning Nigel against the back of the couch. "So keep not kissing me, then," he half-purred, and kissed Nigel again, harder this time, tongue pushing into Nigel's mouth, tasting him. One hand pushed up under Nigel's black cotton shirt, curving over his strong, solid waist, and Bill groaned softly, just once, and pulled Nigel closer.

Nigel moaned just as softly, breath catching at the feel of Bill's fingers on his skin. "Okay," he whispered agreeably, sliding one leg over Bill's, pressing their bodies together from chest to groin. "Bill," Nigel said vaguely, "who'd Oliver shag?"

"Dunno," Bill mumbled, pulling back a bit. "It matter?"

"Guess not," Nigel said, "just wondered. Thought he wasn't out, is all." He warmed up to the thought, easily distracted with this much alcohol in his brain. "Wonder if they shagged at the train station or if whoever folded him in half like you did."

"Shut it, would you?" Bill growled, kissing Nigel, _hard_ , trying to make him stop. Trying to keep those pictures out of his mind. He had known it would happen one day, but Bill still hadn't thought it would feel this horrid when it did. But it was Oliver's business to fuck whomever he wanted, just like it was Bill's to do the same. "Just stop talking and fucking kiss me, would you? God, you always talk this much?"

"When I'm drunk," Nigel answered seriously. "You know that." But he cupped Bill's face and kissed him slowly. "Don't be grouchy," he murmured against Bill's lips. "You told him to do it."

Bill whimpered, but bit the sound off as quickly as he could. "Please..." he begged, shaking his head in denial and closing his eyes tightly. "I can't..."

Nigel murmured, a wordless soothing sound, and kissed Bill again, abandoning the conversation - at least for now - in favour of losing himself in the kiss and the way it felt to be pressed between a long lean body and the couch cushions. "It's okay," he said quietly, and then tugged at Bill's shirt until he could put his hand under it. It had been longer than Nigel was willing to admit since he'd shagged someone, and his body was responding accordingly.

At the feel of someone's hand on his skin, Bill sighed in relief, gradually letting go of his unhappiness in favour of the familiar dance of bodies, even if it was an unfamiliar partner. He leaned back in, kissing Nigel again, pushing his shirt up as Bill rubbed his hand up a strongly muscled back, rubbing back down again and teasing with the waist of Nigel's cargo trousers. "Fuck, Nige," he murmured. "Been holding out on your mate, have you?"

"Nope," Nigel said. He smiled and said without hurt or rancor, "I was never pretty enough."

"Fuck off," Bill laughed. "You've got a fair body. Fair enough for me to fuck you." He leered at Nigel, cupping his arse and squeezing.

"Only 'cause we're drunk." Nigel raised an eyebrow. "And if you call me Oliver I'm leaving, whether you've come or not." Nigel pushed his hand into the tight jeans Bill was wearing to squeeze the bare flesh there, vaguely aware they really shouldn't be doing this but both too curious and too drunk to care.

Bill growled, a rough sound from deep in his chest. "Stop talking about him," he ordered, and shoved his hand down the back of Nigel's loose trousers, under his pants. He slid his middle finger between Nigel's cheeks, determined to _stop thinking_. "We should go to my room," he added, voice still ragged as he kissed down Nigel's neck, scraping his lips along Nigel's stubble. "There's a bed there."

Nigel moaned as his eyes fluttered shut. God, that felt good. Arching his neck under Bill's lips, he mumbled, "Hafta let me up, then." Nigel's own fingers crept between Bill's cheeks in an echo of Bill's caresses.

"Yeah," Bill agreed before he fully processed what Nigel had said. "Yeah." He backed away, groaning when he lost the touch of Nigel's hand on his arse, and pulled off his boots as he waited for Nigel. "C'mon, then." Grabbing his friend by the hand, Bill hauled Nigel close, kissing him again as they stumbled crookedly.

It made Nigel snicker and lean against Bill, but he let Bill lead him toward the bedroom. "Careful," he muttered against Bill's mouth. Part way down the hall Nigel stopped abruptly and turned them to pin Bill against the wall. "Your turn," he said vaguely, and kissed Bill hard, body pressing him into the unyielding surface. "Or mine, maybe." He kissed Bill again.

Groaning, Bill curled his hands over Nigel's waist and kissed back, fingers knotting in his friend's shirt, leaning into the kiss and tangling their tongues together. He was dizzy from the alcohol and hard from the kisses, and Bill dimly wondered why they hadn't done this years sooner, the usual lack of sexual chemistry withstanding. Not that his thoughts were that coherent, of course; rather, they were more like _that's is... need this..._ Bill reached down and grabbed Nigel's arse, grinding their cocks together as he groaned again.

Nigel gasped into the kiss and pushed back, letting Bill guide the rock of their hips but definitely contributing. "Fuck," he muttered. He nipped at Bill's bottom lip and then soothed it with his tongue. "Bed." His brain swam with the need Bill was generating and he groaned.

Bill nodded, and pushed away from the wall, pulling Nigel the rest of the way down the hall, not pausing until they were in his room. He shrugged off his shirt and let it land wherever, then slid his hands under Nigel's shirt, pushing it up, pulling it over his head. As soon as Nigel's shirt was gone, Bill pushed his friend back and onto the bed, following quickly. Covering Nigel with his long, lean form, Bill moaned at the slide of skin on skin, and kissed Nigel again, taking charge of this kiss.

Letting Bill lead was heady stuff. Or maybe that was the alcohol. Nigel smiled as he moved against Bill, his hands sliding up the bare skin of Bill's back, content for a moment to lie back under his taller friend and be kissed. The thought drifted into his mind that he didn't bottom, and he said, "Oh, right," and rolled them, sitting up as he straddled Bill's hips. "Whoa." He started to laugh, the room spinning from his abrupt movement.

For a moment, Bill's eyes crossed. "Stop shakin' the room," he laughed, finally getting his focus back. "Prat." He was still grinning, but Bill's eyes glittered as he traced a line down Nigel's chest and cupped his groin, pushing with the heel of his hand, rubbing Nigel's cock through his trousers. He rocked up under Nigel, grinding his own cock against Nigel's arse. "We doing this, or what?" he asked, smirking up at Nigel in challenge.

"Dunno, are we?" Nigel's own eyes crossed and he rocked too, pushing his cock into Bill's hand, rubbing his arse on Bill's cock. "God," he gasped, "that feels bloody good." Nigel bent forward, bracing his hands on Bill's shoulders as he rocked again with a groan.

"God, I hope so," Bill rumbled, squeezing his hand. Smirking, Bill flipped them over and knelt between Nigel's legs, hands quickly and clumsily going to the other man's flies.

Nigel writhed as Bill's hands fumbled against his cock, his hands rubbing up over Bill's forearms. "Been awhile," he mumbled, watching Bill from between his eyelashes. He wasn't sure if he were warning Bill or apologising for his lack of finesse, but he figured it worked either way. "And 'm drunk. Oh god." Nigel finally closed his eyes and groaned with relief as Bill pulled his cock out of his trousers and pants, long freckled fingers stroking the hard shaft. Fuck, that felt good.

Slowly, Bill stroked the length of Nigel's cock, trying to learn the feel but not really able to concentrate. "M'drunk, too," he said, looking up to Nigel's face, and grinning wickedly. "Not too drunk to fuck you, though."

Nigel snorted and laughed and gasped at the same time, because it had been too long since he'd had the hand of someone who really knew what they were doing on his cock, but... "I don't think so," Nigel said roughly, still laughing, "because I'm not drunk enough to be fucked." Reaching down between Bill's legs, Nigel started to fumble open the tight black jeans hiding that legendary Weasley cock. "Not too drunk to fuck _you_ though." He smirked at Bill.

Bill pushed Nigel back and set to opening his own jeans before leaning over Nigel, holding their bodies apart as much as he could. "But I'm not the one flat on his back and with legs spread," he pointed out, and ducked to bite at Nigel's neck, then nibbled at his ear lobe, hiding a wicked grin. "Don't worry, Nige; I promise to be gentle for your first time."

Neck arching under the bite, head tilting as Bill nuzzled and bit at his ear, Nigel laughed again. "I'm not worried," he said. He lunged up and rolled, pinning Bill underneath him, not bothering to keep their bodies apart. "I'm also not the one flat any more. And it wouldn't be my first time, which is why I know I'm not nearly drunk enough for it. But I'll be careful with you, Bill, promise."

Snorting at that, Bill didn't move for a few seconds. "We'll see about that," he said mildly, and then pushed up on Nigel, rolling them onto their sides. But Bill had had plenty of alcohol, and more than Nigel, so while he was recovering from the room's spinning, Bill got pushed back again, Nigel pinning him to the bed. Back and forth they rolled, grappling and kissing, their tongues sliding, fighting for control of their kisses, teeth knocking, trousers loose and cocks rubbing. Bill was the first one to moan, a needy sound that was rough and short of breath as he got pushed back against the mattress again. Somehow, his jeans were down around his ankles and Nigel was between his legs and Bill didn't much mind at this point. "Make me want it if you want it that fuckin' bad, Nige," he challenged instead of submitting.

Nigel grinned and pushed Bill's thighs up as he dove in, hands holding Bill open so he could lick at the small wrinkled hole hidden between freckled cheeks. Nigel firmed his tongue and teased, then pushed the tip of it inside and began slowly fucking Bill with the strong muscle. He could make Bill want it. Probably.

Bill squirmed and freed an ankle from his jeans, and promptly slung that bare leg over Nigel's shoulder with a low moan. At the very least, Nigel was off to a hell of a start. There weren't all that many ways to turn Bill on faster than by playing with his arse, and suddenly Bill wondered if the times that Nigel had watched him fucking in the back rooms at clubs, Nigel hadn't been taking notes on what Bill liked. This was right up there with certain well-developed athletes, even. But then that thought was gone, because Bill didn't care about much more than how _good_ his best mate was at this.

"Fucking hell, Nige..." Bill moaned, fingers tangling in his own hair. Every nerve in his body was hardwired to his arse, and Bill cupped himself, stroking slowly and moaning breathily. "That's it... s'good..."

Nigel hummed open-mouthed and pushed his tongue in harder, one hand going up to help Bill stroke his cock. Their fingers tangled as they tugged, and Nigel's hips began to move, rubbing his cock against the bedding. He used his nose to rub at the soft skin behind Bill's balls and then moved up, licking at Bill between their fingers, then diving back down to fuck Bill with his tongue again. Maybe if Bill came on his tongue... The thought dissipated, scattered by the building pleasure in his gut, the rising need in his groin. He was going to fuck Bill, was going to shove his cock in the tight channel his tongue was working open. Nigel groaned, tongue thrusting harder and faster.

Swear words tripped brokenly over Bill's lips and he fisted his free hand in the sheet beneath him, one foot planted firmly on the mattress. "More," he panted, head turned to the side and eyes tightly shut. "More."

Right. More. Nigel would have been smug if he'd had any blood left in his brain for it. He didn't. He adjusted his grip on Bill's arse so he could push his thumb into Bill and tug, tongue still moving steadily in and out. His other hand tightened on Bill's cock and tugged in the same strong rhythm. "God, Bill," he groaned, nosing at Bill's balls, switching to two fingers instead of his thumb and twisting his wrist, working at Bill's muscles. "Gonna fuck you. Need... lube."

Nigel added a third finger and leaned up, pinning Bill under his body as his hand fucked his best friend. "Where's the lube, Bill?" he growled and shoved his fingers in hard. He bit Bill's chin and then licked the small hurt.

"Bedside... bedside table," Bill barely managed, bearing down on Nigel's fingers. It was a waste of time to pretend he wasn't shuddering with want now, that this sudden assertiveness hadn't made up Bill's mind for him. Bill _wanted_ to be fucked, and he wanted it _now_. "Don't tell?"

"Tell what?" Nigel thought he'd missed something, because the blood was positively roaring in his ears now, and he was a little confused. Or maybe that was just the alcohol. He pressed a quick kiss to Bill's lips and pulled away, fumbling in the table to find the lube and quickly smoothing it over his fingers so he could push them back into Bill's body. God, Bill was tight. His fingers moved faster.

"How much I need this," Bill answered, pulling away and climbing up onto his hands and knees. "Like this. Hard," he added, moaning quietly, his cock hard and red, leaking desperately. "Need it _hard_."

Nigel had just enough presence of mind to ache for Bill. "No, I won't tell," he said softly. He lubed his own cock and held it in place, lightly pushing at Bill's entrance. Nigel curved over Bill's back and kissed his spine, then began pushing harder, steadily working himself inside. As he slid into Bill, Nigel reached around to grasp Bill's cock. "I'll fuck you hard, promise."

Finally fully inside, Nigel held himself still as he shuddered, waiting for Bill to adjust. But Bill didn't want to wait, and he squeezed and tried to rock against Nigel. He wanted it, and wanted it now, and there couldn't possibly be a good reason for why they weren't moving yet.

"Move," he ordered through gritted teeth. "Make me fucking _feel it_." He reached out and grabbed the headboard, holding himself up as he looked over his shoulder at Nigel. "Fuck me before I change my mind."

Nigel raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me," he said mildly, "but I happen to be topping here. And you've lost the chance to change your mind." Not that Nigel wouldn't stop if Bill honestly needed to, but bloody hell. "Pushy bottom," Nigel muttered, and pulled out almost completely so he could slam back into Bill again. It felt so mind-blowingly good, he did it again.

Bill cried out and tensed, fingers curling and a sweat breaking out over his body. "Gets me what I want," he said with a groan. God, he'd forgotten how fucking _good_ it felt to be filled. Every inch of him was on fire, and Bill couldn't hold still, couldn't help but try for more. "Now stop talking and fuck me some more," he tried to order, but was so busy panting there wasn't enough air in him to put the right force behind his words. "Bruise me, Nige."

With a rough sound, Nigel started to really move, fucking Bill hard, hands tight on Bill's hips so he could pull Bill back into each thrust. His entire body was straining out of control. "Fuck," he gasped, "holy fuck, it's so good, you're so tight." Nigel bit his lip and finally fell silent but for the rush of air as his lungs worked. He wasn't going to last long. Nigel could already feel the pleasure starting to spark through his veins, curling up his spine. Reaching around to roughly grab Bill's cock, Nigel tugged and started thrusting impossibly harder. He was determined to make Bill come first so he could come too. "Come, dammit," Nigel growled. "I can't hold on."

" _Oh my god_ ," Bill moaned, his back curving as he gave up trying to move with it, and just knelt there as Nigel pounded into him. His knuckles were white as he gripped the headboard, and Bill's mouth worked open and closed without actually forming any words as he whimpered and screwed his eyes shut. He wasn't thinking, only feeling, and it swamped him, filled him, dragged him under, made Bill's entire body tremble and clench with each expert stroke along his cock and inside his arse. Whimpering, Bill pled, whinged, and finally, _finally_ , let go, his head falling forward and a strangled, broken sound in his throat as an earth-shaking spasm rocked his body and he came all over Nigel's hand and the bed, some of his spunk hitting his chest, unnoticed.

Nigel cried out as Bill came, his body clenching almost painfully on Nigel's cock and pulling Nigel over the edge with him. Thrusting through both their orgasms, Nigel finally collapsed shaking on Bill. "Bloody hell, Bill," Nigel mumbled, panting. "Bloody fucking hell, that was just amazing." With far more effort than it should have taken, Nigel rolled off Bill and sprawled next to him on the bed, one hand on his chest over his thundering heart. He looked down at himself and started to laugh. His spent cock was shining wetly with lube and his own spunk, framed in the open vee of his trousers.

Almost boneless, Bill let go of the headboard and rolled the other way, snickering when he saw Nigel's state of not-quite undress. "Been a while, huh?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yeah." Nigel knew he'd be embarrassed about admitting it and about not even managing to get his trousers off later, but right now he felt bloody fantastic, still drunk and still shivering in the aftermath of truly spectacular sex. "But you're just too damn sexy for your own good," Nigel laughed, eyes so heavy he couldn't keep them open any more. "No wonder Oliver couldn't leave you alone."

Bill was lazily fishing for his wand so he could spell the bed clean, until Nigel mentioned Oliver again. Eyes fluttering shut, Bill turned away so Nigel wouldn't see how much that hurt. Bill took a few moments to compose himself before speaking. "I reckon so," he breathed. "But I never let him fuck me, so maybe not." One big lungful of air, held and then released slowly, and then Bill opened his eyes again, found his wand and did the necessary cleaning spells.

Nigel yawned hugely. "Thanks, mate," he mumbled as he felt the magic tingle over his skin, cleaning him off. Now he didn't even have to move. "Sleep for a minute, yeah?" He reached out and patted the bed until he found Bill, and then patted Bill. "Maybe you shoulda let him, then."

"Maybe," Bill sighed, swallowing around a hard lump in his throat. He turned back to Nigel and reached out to press two fingers against his friend's lips. "Shut up and go to sleep, would you?" he said, not trying very hard to sound light-hearted and knowing Nigel likely wouldn't notice anyhow. He always was a cheap drunk, anyhow.

"'Kay." Nigel rolled toward Bill, curling onto his side with another yawn. He cracked one eye open and pinned Bill with a startlingly sober look that didn't last more than a few seconds before he lost focus again. He let his eye close. "I'm sorry, Bill," he said, and then Nigel dropped into sleep with a sigh, gone fast enough that he may have actually passed out.

"Yeah." Bill closed his eyes against the blurry room and let sleep slowly drag him under. It had been a hell of a day, and Bill honestly didn't want it to go on any longer, anyhow. "Sorry."

~*~*~*~*~

Bill woke slowly, only gradually becoming aware of the dull ache in his backside. Around that same time, memories of the night before came back, and Bill groaned, cracking one eye open to see Nigel next to him in bed, the pre-dawn light still a bit too bright for the pounding behind Bill's eyes. Closing them, Bill covered his eyes and groaned again. "Bloody fucking brilliant, Weasley," he muttered. "Perfect way to make things better."

"Shhhh," Nigel said and winced, his own voice too fucking loud. "Fuck. What?" Nigel covered his eyes with both hands and groaned. The goblins had set off explosions in his head, and he didn't know why. "Help," he whimpered, pressing on his eyes.

"Double-strength alcohol," Bill whispered, still not ready for the amount of moving getting potions would require. "Maybe we should skive off work today?"

Nigel whimpered again before swallowing. "Er. Yeah." There was no way in hell he'd be able to sit up, much less confront a curse or open a tomb for at least, oh, three months. "Why'd we get drunk?" he asked as softly as he possibly could. Bloody hell, he _hurt_. He couldn't think.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," Bill said back, swallowing several times in a row. He'd hoped it would make it easier, help him get perspective, relax; but instead, he only felt physically miserable as well as this strange pit in his stomach that even being thoroughly fucked by his best friend hadn't gotten rid of.

"We had sex." Nigel's eyes flew open, and then immediately squeezed shut again. "And you- " _got dumped._ "Er. Bottomed. You let me fuck you." Nigel was torn between the smirk trying to crawl across his face and the roiling nausea that made him grit his teeth and breathe carefully through his nose and the ache in his heart for Bill's misery. "God."

Bill didn't move his hands from his face, but he still winced all the same. "One of us had to," he pointed out. "And that seemed like a good idea at the time, too." Slowly, carefully, Bill rolled over onto his back, doing his best to keep his breathing even. "Fuck. Just kill me now, yeah?"

Nigel huffed a soft laugh. "I think that's another one of those things that seems a good idea at the time." Bracing himself, Nigel cracked his eye open and got his bearings. He knew Bill kept potions in the loo, and moving carefully, Nigel shifted until he could see the doorway through his eyelashes. It took three tries and a bloody _hell_ of a lot of concentration but finally Nigel managed to Summon the bottle and drink from it. He shuddered with relief as he felt the pain and hangover literally melt away. "Thank god for magic," he muttered, and then moved to lift Bill's head just enough to help him drink some of the potion without spilling it. He rather thought Bill was miserable enough without the hangover on top of it.

"Thanks," Bill rasped, but still refused to open his eyes. God, he was such a bloody idiot sometimes. Hopefully they hadn't ruined things between them with what they'd done. "Remind me not to drink with you again," he said, trying to grin and hide behind banter. "Unless you plan on bending over the next time. My arse is sore as anything."

Taking a risk - and he knew he was - Nigel wrapped his arms around Bill's shoulders and gave him a quick squeeze, along with a light kiss to the temple. "You started it," he said, letting Bill set the mood. One last stroke to Bill's hair and Nigel pulled away, taking the potion back to the loo and giving Bill a moment. "And I don't bottom," he called from the loo.

Bill stared up at the ceiling and sighed before calling back, "Then I reckon that's the end of our torrid affair, Nige. Give and take and all that rot."

"Damn," Nigel said, leaning against the door frame with his arms folded. "And I was just starting to understand the fuss, too." Nigel considered asking Bill if there had been give with Oliver, or just take, or even just rot, but thought better of it. One corner of his mouth quirked up sympathetically. Bill still looked miserable. "At least we can still go clubbing together; we'll just have to find our own blokes instead of fucking each other."

"So long as you don't tell anyone I've bottomed. I've a reputation, you know," Bill said, rolling off the bed and standing in one long-limbed and graceful move, finally mustering up a ghost of his usual smirk. "Because you know if you tell, I'll have to tell how you can't remember to fully drop trou when you fuck." Unashamedly naked, he strolled over to his wardrobe and pulled out a clean pair of jeans. "Need a shower, but I'm thinking tea after that. You hungry enough to cook me breakfast?"

Nigel laughed. "I'd think that would just enhance your reputation, my not being able to wait to have you." He watched Bill dress. Best mates or no, Nigel could still appreciate the truly fine body currently disappearing into denims. With a somewhat wistful sigh, Nigel straightened away from the door frame and crossed to Bill. "You go shower, I'll start the tea." He rested his hand on Bill's bicep and lightly squeezed. He knew Bill wouldn't accept the hug he wanted to give. "And then you can cook while I shower." With that parting shot, Nigel strolled out of the bedroom, leaving Bill to himself for just a little while.

With Nigel out of the room, Bill let his shoulders slump and his head fall back as he sighed. This was what he'd wanted, and he knew it, so there was no point in feeling sorry for himself, no matter how hollow he felt inside. But knowing it and following through were two entirely different things, and Bill couldn't stop thinking about the things he'd written, the horrible way he'd behaved, the strangely impersonal way it had all ended. He couldn't stop thinking about how much he'd hurt Oliver just by trying not to hurt him, and then by trying to keep from getting hurt himself, and all those thoughts spun around and around in Bill's head, made his stomach clench and he lurched, running for the loo and barely making it in time.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Bill flushed the toilet and stared at his reflection. The mirror, just a normal mirror, held no answers; only the haggard reflection of a man that Bill never knew he could be. Frustrated, Bill fisted his hand and punched the wall, swearing when the skin on his knuckles broke.

Bill stripped down and climbed into the shower, just letting the water sluice over him, rinsing away sweat, lube and spunk that his drunken cleaning had missed, the water tinted pink briefly as blood ran down the drain. At some point, Bill realised he wasn't thinking of anything at all, just staring off into space as he pruned up, and he laughed at himself as he turned off the water and grabbed a towel.

He'd live, of course; he'd lived through worse, and would probably see even more in the years ahead. One broken heart wouldn't kill him.

But just now, he wished it could.

~*~*~*~*~

 _post-script script:_

  
Dear Nigel,

  
This is Oliver Wood, I'm Bill's, er, _was_ Bill's, you know. I mean, I'm sure you know exactly. We used your tent. Anyway. Is he, er, how is he? Please?

  
From,

Oliver

  
~*~*~*~*~

  
Hello, Oliver, and yes, I know exactly. I have to admit to being surprised to hear from you. Why do you want to know? _You_ are the one who dumped _him_ , after all, not the other way 'round. I read your owl.

  
Nigel

  
~*~*~*~*~

  
Nigel,

  
Please don't. I didn't want to, but he won't ever _talk_ to me, he just can't forget I'm seventeen. And since he can't forget it he won't let me forget it either. He treats me like a kid except when he's, I mean, when we, damn. When ~~he's inside me~~ we're in bed. And he won't let me say I miss him, and he hates when I show how I feel, and he just _left_ and it _hurt_.

Is he okay?

  
Oliver

  
~*~*~*~*~

  
Oliver,

  
When you _act_ like a child, you have to expect to be treated that way. And I rather think you gave up the right to ask after him.

  
Nigel

  
~*~*~*~*~

  
Nigel, _please_. I _am_ a kid, how else am I supposed to be? I can't be older than I am just for him, but I would if I could. I miss him so much, it's like a huge hole in my stomach that won't go away. I know he doesn't care, but I do. I can't sleep and Angie makes me eat but I'm not hungry. I just want to touch him again, just once. And I know I can't. I should've just shut up and taken what he'd give, and now I have nothing at all.

Please take care of him.

  
Oliver

  
~*~*~*~*~

  
Oliver,

  
You can't have it both ways. Either you're a child who acts like a child and is excused for that behaviour because of your age, or else you're old enough to play the sort of bedroom games Bill enjoys. Obviously he was right, and you're still in the first situation.

He's trolling the clubs the way he did before you pushed your way into his life. He works too hard, but then again he always did. ~~He's absolutely miserable.~~ And I always take care of him. In the spirit of that care, I have to tell you, leave him alone. If you have the uncontrollable urge to write, you can write me, although I won't promise to tell you anything, but leave him be. You had your chance there and gave it up. Gave _him_ up.

Find a little boyfriend your own age, you'll be much happier.

  
Nigel

  
~*~*~*~*~

No, I won't bother you either. I'm sorry.

  
Oliver

 _~fin~_


End file.
